Will you dance with me?
by AnadoraBlack
Summary: Daenerys Targaryen, running for Prime Minister, is throwing a charity event to attract potential voters. In the midst of it all, Ashara Mormont, wild daughter to Jorah and social worker, finds herself more than entranced by the guest of honour, head of the Brotherhood Without Banners, Beric Dondarrion... [Modern AU] [Beric/OC]
1. Charity work

_A/N: Hello everyone, may you be regular readers of mine or not at all! Sooo...recently (as in, during season 7 of Game of Thrones), I've found myself falling head over heels for Beric Dondarrion, a character that doesn't even have his own tag around here, see how discriminated he is!_

 _Anyway, this is a silly modern AU I started right after season 7 and basically wrote the entire plot to waaaay before I wrote my other Beric/Ashara fic, **The Cub and the Lightning Lord**. If you are more of a purist, you may want to read that instead of this. This is pure crack. This is hormone-driven and I'm not even sorry._

 _Anyway, you'll enjoy it I'm sure, please tell me what you make of it and happy reading!_

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 ** _Disclaimer: I do not own any of Game of Thrones' characters. I only own my OC Ashara Mormont and the plot surrounding her in the modern world._**

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 **1\. Charity work**

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The party was buzzing with people from all around town. From all around the country actually. Ashara could see a couple who were definitely ailing from the Mediterranean – maybe from Dorne, the former English colony. Their luscious brown hair and tanned skin left little to imagination when concerning their origins.

Although – she thought as she caught sight of another kind of brown hair and tanned skin – there were also Dothrakis from the Middle-East, the men with their long braids and the women with their short and lithe statures. They looked like fishes out of water.

To be perfectly honest, Ashara did not really understand what she was doing there. Granted, it was a charity held for the people who had been impacted by the vicious terrorist attacks in the North, those perpetrated by the zealots known as Army of the Dead. They basically preached the End of the World, and their leader, the so-called 'Night King', had taken to burning down villages and killing innocents to prove a point.

So Daenerys Targaryen, who was coincidentally running for Prime Minister, had decided to host a charity event, and everyone from everywhere who had even the smallest link to her had been invited.

Which meant Ashara's father, Jorah Mormont, who was Daenerys' closest advisor next to Tyrion Lannister, brother to current Prime Minister menace Cersei Lannister.

Jorah was currently dancing with Dany's bestfriend Missandei, who was wearing a deep blue dress that showed her coffee skin-tone and wonderful hair. Ash sighed, instantly jealous. And she liked the lass.

She was planted next to the bar, and sipped on her third glass of champagne absent-mindedly. She shouldn't have been there. Those things she always avoided. She hated crowds, and even more than that: she hated crowds made of hypocrites and rich people.

And yes, even when that included her father.

Ashara took a fag out of her purse and placed it to her lips. She needed a smoke. Even though she had been trying to stop for weeks by then, this was too much. She needed the oblivion the nicotine would provide.

"Ttttttt," came a deep voice she knew all-too-well, "you are not allowed to do that in here." A gloved hand picked the cigarette from her lips and she saw Davos Seaworth chuck it through the room.

She rolled her eyes. "I should have known you'd be there… Where's your infuriating boss?"

He chuckled. "It's good to see you too, Ash. And to answer your delightful question, Jon is currently introducing his sister to Daenerys."

Ash peaked from around him and effectively saw a mop of brown locks close to the silver of Dany's. Next to him, despite what she'd have thought, wasn't Sansa Stark, but a smaller form with the same mop of brown hair. "Arya's come home?"

Davos nodded with a sigh. "Yup. And believe me when I say that cleaning after that one is not easy."

She snorted. "You're the butler, not the maid." He needn't answer, so she carried on. "Thought she was dating that boy you adopted. Gendry."

"She is. And I did not adopt Gendry."

Ashara chuckled. "Come on, Davos, you and I both know that you have a tendency to consider each straying child your own. First me, then Gendry, and now Jon. We're all your kids in your eyes, admit it."

He looked down at her with that smirk of his. "I never liked you."

Ashara grinned, then looked him up and down. "You look smart, by the way." He had donned a tweed grey jacket over grey cotton trousers, and a light shirt underneath. The perfect butler indeed.

He smiled. "You're not too bad either."

She rolled her eyes. "Papa almost forced me to wear a dress. I didn't know why he wanted me here so badly and almost came wearing my day-to-day comfy jeans. Until I managed to get it out of him that he wanted me to meet someone."

"Oh?" Davos' smirk was too cheeky, she had to counter it.

"Not like that!" She narrowed her grey eyes at him. "At least I hope so. He said it was for business. Hopes to find me a job." She rolled her eyes. "And he thought me wearing a dress would show how much of a social worker I am. Idiot."

Davos didn't counter her words, seemingly approving her choice of dungarees over a black crop-top, and simple black high-heels that were so old and worn-out that she felt as comfortable in them as she did in slippers. Her tattoo of a cub was on full display on her right biceps, and the scar she bore on the left side of her stomach showed a bit, but she was used to people looking at her as if she was a strange object of curiosity, and didn't mind anymore.

"Hey Potato-Face."

Ashara turned to see Jon Snow approach her. Anyone else wouldn't have realised it had been him to speak, since the usual pout was on his face, but Ash knew him better than most, and soon, a smile broke on the stern lad's face. "You're hideous," she said before sipping on yet another glass of champagne.

He wasn't, to be honest. The tuxedo and bowtie he had donned were perfect if he wanted to impress his current crush – Daenerys – and if the silver-haired beauty's moon eyes at him were any indication, his choice of clothes was definitely appealing to her.

"Dance?" he asked simply with a hand outstretched.

More people than before were swaying on the dance-floor, including Jon's bodyguards – who were also married, as it happens – Tormund and Brienne. The both of them were dancing their waltz so enthusiastically that most people were making way for their giant statures. Ash loved those two to bits. They were hilarious together.

Anyway, she placed her glass in Davos' ready hand, and followed her old friend into the fray.

"I'm gonna walk on your feet so many times you won't be able to walk," she whispered.

"Shut it or I dip you and drop you."

She chuckled. They had always had those interactions, ever since they had met three years prior. It had been a coincidence, she'd been looking for a social job and he'd been applying for the same – strangely enough, in Dragonstone, Daenerys' first business in England – and they had been friends ever since.

She had his back, he had hers. They didn't need words, they had trust.

And besides, Ashara was five years older than Jon, and to her, it was not a bridge she'd cross. Ugh. No way.

"So, dear old Dad managed to make your ass come here?"

Ashara snorted again, her hand and head leaning on his shoulder. "Said he wanted me to meet someone for a job."

"Oh? Must be that guy Dany's invited. A big ponte for charity work, apparently."

"Oh?" she mirrored, leaning back a bit so she'd meet his dark eyes. "Do you know the name?"

"Don't think she mentioned, but I know the association he's created. And so do you." He smirked. "You've been trying to get in for ages."

" _The Brotherhood without Banners?_ " Ashara's grey eyes had turned wide and disbelieving. " _Beric Dondarrion_ is coming here tonight?"

Jon shrugged. "Guess so if that's the name of the guy. So, are you going to try and charm him? Cause we both know you're not that charming at all…"

She gently shoved him off her with a smile. "Shut up."

But her mind was buzzing with thoughts.

 _The Brotherhood without Banners._ She'd dreamt her whole life – okay, perhaps not true – to work for and with them, and now their boss, the great, the famous Beric Dondarrion, was going to be a breath away from her.

She would need to thank her Papa later…for once.


	2. Speechless

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of Game of Thrones' characters. I only own my OC Ashara Mormont and the plot surrounding her in the modern world._**

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 **2\. Speechless**

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"Stop fidgeting, Ash, you are acting like a bloody teenager…"

Ash scowled at her father and took another bite of her duck thigh – quite violently so. "I'm not fidgeting."

Arya Stark, who was sitting next to her, snorted. "You look like a tiger out of its cage, mate."

The older woman did not answer, the glare of her father's green eyes being too much for her. She tried to stop the moving of her leg. She was far too stressed out since Jon had dropped the bomb – though he had unknowingly done so.

Daenerys had placed the Mormonts at the same table as the Starks. Ashara sat beside her father, who himself was sat beside Davos. On Ash's other side came Tormund – who was eating with his mothereffing fingers – and Brienne, and then came Jon and Arya.

Jorah was obviously uncomfortable sitting with the Northerners. Although he himself ailed from Scotland – and despite the fact that he was trying to hide his accent. He had never acted like that before, but the reason for his frown was easily understandable: Jon and Dany were growing ever so close, and Jorah had always been madly in love with his boss.

Ashara, at first, hadn't known what to think of the fact that her father had fallen head over heels for a girl who was five years younger than her, but she had since met all kinds of people and had learnt the hard way that the heart knew best. She didn't judge him anymore, but she wished he'd finally take the hint.

"Hey Ash, when have you come back from Somalia?"

Ash leaned forward a bit to meet Brienne's kind blue eyes. She knew the taller woman was partly trying to defuse the tension and make her feel more at ease; and she also knew that Brienne was genuinely interested. "Three months ago. And it was about time, I think. We weren't any more help, and I'd rather make myself useful somewhere else."

The blonde giantess nodded thoughtfully. "Got your sight on somewhere in particular?"

Ash didn't dare answer – her father was listening, and the frown on his face was visible enough – so she settled for a diplomatic answer. "Wherever I'll be needed. Close by."

"Close by?" Tormund intervened, wiping his fingers on his napkin, although his beard was currently hosting several pieces of chips. "You're not planning on leaving your old man again then?"

Ash snorted. "My 'old man' doesn't need me close by, eh Papa?" She daren't look at Jorah so she carried on, staring straight at the bearded ginger. "I guess I missed England. And you lot."

Jon, facing her, smiled softly, as did Davos. In truth, she had missed those idiots, even Tormund with his Viking ways.

She hadn't foreseen what her father did next.

He stood, and outstretched a hand towards her. "Dare to dance with your old pa, Ashara?"

She stared at him dead on, then wiped her mouth and stood too, taking his hand.

It wasn't until they had begun swaying to a slow music that she voiced "We've never danced together before."

Jorah sighed. "I guess it's time we changed that."

There was a pause, and Ash felt weird dancing there with her father. Not that things were weirder than usual between the two of them, but she didn't know what he wanted to hear.

She tried "Thank you for tonight, Papa."

Her father's green eyes met hers, and he was slightly surprised. "What for?"

"Jon told me who's guest of honour."

"Ah. The lad needs to understand the concept of 'surprise' better if he wants to carry on in this life." Jorah's teeth were gritted, but there was the lilt of a joke in his voice. "Happy?"

She grinned. "Ecstatic. I just hope I'll manage to make you proud."

He stared at her softly. "You're always making me proud, Ash. Always." He leaned in and kissed her forehead, and Ashara felt herself blush.

Jorah was not the type of father that physically showed affection. But it seemed he was trying to change that as well.

The evening carried on, and when it was time for speeches, Ashara found herself sat beside Arya while Jorah went back to Daenerys and Jon, Davos and the Giantsbanes sat on the front row.

"Do you know who we're supposed to listen to?" the young girl asked. Apparently, she had remained the impatient thing she had always been.

Sometimes, Ash wondered how Arya had managed to be accepted in the army, with her small stature and slender limbs. But apparently, she was a bit of a sociopath. Scary.

"I do. Beric Dondarrion."

Arya's brown eyes widened. "That one-eyed guy? People say he's so ugly he makes babies cry…" She snorted. "Can't wait to see if it's true."

"I doubt it is…" Ashara knew from experience that scars did not define a person.

And it appeared that she was, once again, right.

Daenerys announced their guest of honour and a man clad in a light-blue suit that made the blonde of his hair stand out from afar appeared. He was wearing an eye-patch that hid his right eye from view, and the top two buttons of his white shirt were opened, revealing scars on his neck.

Arya let out an amused huff when the man took place on the platform to commence his speech. "So, definitely not ugly."

Ashara was frozen on her chair, eyeing the man who could possibly become her boss. She stared at him up and down, taking in the way his suit fitted him perfectly, staring at the patch of skin showing under his shirt, revelling in the handsomeness of his face.

No, Beric Dondarrion was definitely _not_ ugly.


	3. Appearances

_A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry for the relatively long wait. I usually update once a week, but a few days off writing made me forget to update this. I'm so sorry. Anyway, here comes the proper meeting of Ashara and Beric, and the beginning of trouble._

 _Don't forget that if you are really into Game of Thrones, there's another Beric/Ashara story I wrote on my profile, The Cub and the Lightning Lord!_

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 ** _Disclaimer:_** ** _I do not own any of Game of Thrones' characters. I only own my OC Ashara Mormont and the plot surrounding her in the modern world._**

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 **3\. Appearances**

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It became quite clear after five minutes of listening to him speak that Beric Dondarrion was not an idiot. Far from it. Ashara hung from his lips, drinking in every word he uttered, from the need to build schools in poor countries to the need to help migrants who had freshly arrived in England without any knowledge of how the country worked.

The more she listened to him, the more she was convinced she needed to work for the guy. He was an extremely good rhetorician, was giving arguments she couldn't counter, and his voice was like melted butter.

If she had looked around her, she'd have seen the others in attendance utterly ignoring what he was saying, carrying on with their own futile conversations in ushered tones or probably mocking the man with pointing fingers. She, on the other hand, could not take her eyes off him.

She had already come to the conclusion that he was not the monster some described. Yet, alright, he was wearing an eye-patch. So what? She had met young men without teeth, with hollow cheeks that showed the outline of their bones; and she sported her own fair share of scars. Scars did not define a person.

Dondarrion's speech lasted some five minutes, and then Daenerys thanked him and announced that she herself would donate five billions to his charity to help people in need. Apparently, some in the audience found the gesture genuine enough to consider voting for her at the next elections. At least that's what Ash gathered when Olenna Tyrell – the matriarch of the clan of the same name, a wealthy family that owned most of Cornwall – moved to talk to the silver-haired woman with interest painted all over her face.

"You look like a fly that got dipped in jam," Arya then said with a slight mocking tone.

Ashara looked at the younger girl next to her and arched a brow. "Meaning?"

"Meaning if you want to work for that guy it'd probably be better not to moon all over him."

"I don't moon."

"I can assure you that you do." Arya smirked and then stood as her brother was coming back to her. They both soon left to start another round of dancing, leaving Ashara alone with Davos.

The Starks' butler looked like he wanted nothing more than to promptly leave this place, and she was starting to feel the same. Except she couldn't leave without her father, meaning she couldn't leave without a job.

She needed to speak with Beric Dondarrion.

Who was currently talking to a dozen people gathered around him like a flock of bees around their queen, as strangely as it sounds. Although she could see on some of their faces the tell-tale sign of disgust when they were looking at him. Most were staring at a point over his shoulder, but the man seemed to be used to it.

It angered Ashara to think that he was. Used to it.

She definitely needed that fag.

So she got out onto one of the mansion's many terraces, and lit up a cigarette she puffed on twice before snuffing it out and basking in the night's cool air. It was abnormally cold for July, but she didn't mind. She came from Scotland, and Scots, for better or for worse, were used to worse conditions than a slight breeze.

"I could ask you if you want a jacket but you do not appear to be shivering."

Ashara froze before she turned around. She had recognized the voice of the man she was supposed to meet, and when she found herself facing him for real, she found herself at a loss for words.

He had shed his jacket, which he had draped over his arm as if ready to offer it to her. His face was shadowed in the darkness of the outside, but she could still see the electric shade of his eye, and he was staring at her.

And her at him.

It seemed to surprise him that she held his gaze so steadily, for he then said "I noticed you were one of the few to actually pay attention to what I was saying earlier."

Ashara found her voice then, and huffed. "Most of the people present don't give a rat's arse about those in need. Unless it is in their best interest, like Daenerys."

Beric arched a brow – the one covered by the patch, she noticed. "You seem familiar with her methods."

"My dad works for her. Has been for years. Sometimes I think he believes she shits rainbows." She chuckled, dimly realising the booze was doing the talking.

Apparently he didn't mind, for he chuckled too, and with his deep voice, it echoed right through her bones. "So you are Ashara Mormont."

Her grey eyes widened. "I am. How do you know?"

"Your father. I met him two days ago, when Miss Targaryen approached me about this evening. He said his daughter was in search of a job, and had experience helping those who needed her the most."

Ashara felt like blushing. "Well I do." She swallowed uneasily. "I just didn't want to come and beg at your feet."

A glint passed through his eye, and she wondered briefly if he too was tipsy. "It's not often I have pretty young women at my feet, that's for sure. Maybe I have forgotten the feeling." He chuckled again. "I'd ask you to summarize your resume for me, but a formal evening is barely the place for something so serious."

"My resume is easy enough." She turned to fully face him, and realised that, without her heels, she'd be maybe one or two inches shorter than him, but that was it. Not that it mattered. "When I was sixteen I left home and went to live in the streets. I came from a relatively rich family so at first it was hard, but I got help, and after a while I decided to give that help back. I served meals and gave clothes to the homeless in my county, and when I turned twenty-two, I bought a one-way ticket to Bangladesh. Stayed there for a year, built houses and schools, taught a bit there too, then I bought another ticket to Chile. There had been a massive earthquake and the capital needed rebuilding. I stayed four months, then moved on to Somalia. I stayed there for about three years, and here I am."

Beric had progressively appeared more and more impressed as she spoke, and she could see he had questions of his own he did not voice, but when she was done, he merely smiled and outstretched a hand, saying "Will you dance with me?"

Ashara opened and closed her mouth as if she had not been expecting that – and she hadn't – then slowly nodded. "With-with pleasure."

He smiled wider, and Ashara definitely realised that he was dangerously attractive. If she was to work for him, she'd have to steer clear of his path. She had once before fallen for a man like him. And in spite of the saint that guy had appeared to be, she had come face to face with an ugly demon bent on taking advantage of weaker people.

Beric Dondarrion, his deep voice, his compelling words and his smile could stay away.

Well, except right then when he asked her to dance, of course…


	4. Rumours

**_Disclaimer:_** ** _I do not own any of Game of Thrones' characters. I only own my OC Ashara Mormont and the plot surrounding her in the modern world._**

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 **4\. Rumours**

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Beric Dondarrion could dance. Dear Lord could he dance. The event being quite a fancy one, Daenerys had ordered another waltz – and she herself was whirling around the dancefloor in Jon's arms – and Ashara was currently being expertly steered around the room without any toes coming in collision with her own.

She was slowly sobering up and realised that the setting she was in was quite scandalous indeed. She had not been officially presented to Beric, he had just stumbled upon her on the balcony, and now they were dancing together as if they'd known each other of old.

"Can I ask you something, Miss Mormont?"

Ashara looked at her dancing partner, and once again she found him surprised that she stared directly at his eye as if he was normally constituted. "You can."

"How is it that your accent is far less pronounced than that of your father's?"

She smiled in amusement, and then answered by mirroring her father's Scottish drawl. "Why, d'ye wish I was speakin' like t'is?"

He smiled back, and shook his head. "Not exactly. I now know you have been living abroad a lot, but in my general experience, the Scottish accent is the hardest to 'get rid of', in one of my friend's own words."

She tilted her head to the side. "True that. I guess I just didn't want to be recognized as my father's kid when I left home, so I…toned it down."

Beric whirled her around once more and smiled softer. "Will you tell me one day? Why you left?"

His words implied that they'd see each other again – and more than once, she thought – and it made her smile back without thinking. It was becoming more and more dangerous to spend time in the same room as this man; she needed out.

But she didn't _want_ out.

So she nodded. "One day."

"And I hope that until then you'll have been reacquainted with your wonderful accent." The glint of a joke was back in his eye.

She chuckled. "If you like us Scots you should meet my friend Podrick. His Glaswegian accent is the thickest I know. Gets him all the girls."

"Podrick?" He arched a brow – still the one covered by the patch, actually.

"Payne. He's Brienne's…" she trailed off, realising he did not know who Brienne was. So she leaned in and gestured with her chin over his shoulder. "Do you see the tall blonde woman dancing with the wild ginge?"

Beric turned her around expertly, then back, seamlessly, as if it was part of the waltz. "Yes, they are hard to miss." True, as Tormund was once again making sure he steered his wife into the other couples like a bulldozer.

"Brienne and her husband Tormund are my friend Jon Snow's personal bodyguards. Married too, but that's a tale for another day. Preferably when there's been a lot of alcohol flowing. Anyway, Pod is Brienne's protégé. He used to assist Tyrion Lannister, but…well, there are a lot of stories to tell about my friends."

Beric smiled gently, and Ashara noticed then how close to each other they had gotten when she had pointed at the Giantbanes. She was staring at him and him at her, and it was extremely improper until another voice with an accent she could not place said close to them "Beric, it's time to go."

Beric moved back from Ashara and took his arm off from around her, although he did so slowly, as if reluctantly. A man was standing next to them, with reddish blonde hair long enough that he'd tied it in a man-bun. He was clad in a burgundy suit, and the beard matched his shaggy hair. His eyes were glistening and Ash realised he was not sober either.

"Ashara Mormont, this is my friend and associate, Thoros of Myr. Thoros, Ashara Mormont. I told you I wished to meet her."

She felt like blushing then, but still shook the other man's hand as if nothing amiss had been said. "Call me Ash, please, I prefer it."

Beric looked at her weirdly, and she understood why. She had not asked _him_ to call her by her nickname. Perhaps because she liked the sound of her full name on his lips…

God he was dangerous indeed…

"Well, Miss Mormont, seeing how close you two have seemingly gotten, I hope we'll work more closely together in the coming weeks. I'm sorry to take this wonderful dancer of a man away from you, but we have another event to attend tonight."

Beric seemed to light up then, which strangely made Ashara feel slightly jealous. "Ah yes." He looked at her. "One of our associates, Anguy, is getting married next week, it's his stag-do tonight."

Her eyes widened and she smiled too. "Oh but then you must go, of course!"

He smiled back. Dangerous. "I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Mormont."

"Me too, Mister Dondarrion."

"Beric, please."

"Then you must call me Ashara."

"And when you two are done, you might get a room and get it over with! People are staring and I don't like it."

Ashara tore her gaze away from Beric and noticed Thoros was right: people were staring. Including Ash's father, Jorah, whose brow was furrowed. Arya, who was standing next to the taller man, was properly smirking.

Damn.


	5. What nots

_A/N: Hello people! After a looooong time of just scribbling away and never being able to finish a single thing I set out to talk about, I'm back with the rest of this stilly story. Hope you like the rest of it! :)_

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 ** _Disclaimer:_** ** _I do not own any of Game of Thrones' characters. I only own my OC Ashara Mormont and the plot surrounding her in the modern world._**

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 **5\. What nots**

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Ashara could not remember a ride home that had been quite that awkward. True, there had been the time when she had come back home after several years abroad. That had been quite awkward as well. But this was taking it to a whole new level.

For the first time in her life, she had been the point of focus of a whole crowd. When Beric and his friend Thoros had left her, she had realised that all in attendance – and she meant all of them – were still staring pointedly at her as if she had grown a second head.

That is, until she felt herself blush to the roots of her hair and hurried to grab a well-needed glass of champagne she downed in one go. That's when Jorah came to find her and called it quits.

And now she was sitting in the back of a car with her silent father, who she knew was overthinking things entirely.

But she was chicken enough not to call him out on his thoughts.

"What happened back there, Ash?" he finally asked.

She looked away from the window and arched a brow. "What?"

"Ashara Lysa Mormont, don't play dumb with me…" She was this close to laughing in his face. She didn't know why all parents used their kids' full names when they were chastising them, but it always made her laugh. The look on Jorah's face, thought, was not one to be mocked.

She sighed. "What do you want me to tell you?"

"Why you were acting so cosy with a man you told me you had never met before, perhaps?"

She had the urge to look down at her hands. "I honestly don't know. I was outside taking the air and he joined me. We…met, and then he asked me to dance. I guess you could say we clicked, but that's the most cliché'd thing in the book." She chuckled darkly. "I'm so glad Sansa was not there. She'd have talked about 'love at first sight' and I'd have chortled her."

Jorah sighed and his hand found his daughter's, forcing her to meet his gaze, darkened by the night. Lit only with the street's lighting, he looked older than he was. "Ashara, you know I only want for you to be happy, but… Beric Dondarrion is old enough to be your father…"

She squeezed his fingers and chuckled again, and again without joy. "Papa, you realise that you are pining for a girl who's even younger than I am? You're hardly one to speak…"

"Yes but I don't want you to make the same mistakes I did." Jorah's eyes were glistening then. "I have a tendency to fall in love with women who don't care much for me. Don't do the same."

Ashara's eyes widened. Her father and her never talked about feelings. They hadn't ever since the day he had brought a bitch home he intended to marry and asked her to call her 'Mama'. Lynesse had _not_ been her mother. And she had never called her thus.

Talking feelings was not a thing the Mormonts did. Except right then, apparently.

She was bound to stop this trail of thought.

"I don't intend to fall in love with anyone ever again, Papa. I promise."

Jorah smiled sadly and his free hand came to caress her cheek lovingly. "You know I love you, right?"

"Don't say it as if you're gonna die tomorrow because if you do I'll be the one finishing you off."

He smiled and gently brought her to him. She clicked her safety belt off and scooted closer, and for the first time in forever, she let her father hold her. Just like that. And she leaned her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes to take on the strength he offered.

Jorah Mormont was the best dad ever.

He just hadn't always been.


	6. Stranded

**_Disclaimer:_** ** _I do not own any of Game of Thrones' characters. I only own my OC Ashara Mormont and the plot surrounding her in the modern world._**

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 **6\. Stranded**

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After that evening, life went on for a little while. Jorah was pleased to show his daughter the headlines in the next day's newspapers, for they showed profusely how generous Daenerys Targaryen was with her people's charities. Ash had been staying at their family's secondary home in Buckingham, waiting, hoping for a call that didn't come.

One day she decided she'd go down to the capital for some 'fresh air'. She'd always felt better in crowded areas, places where no one knew who she was.

She got off the train in Charing Cross and basked in the sunlight that lit Trafalgar Square. She loved that place. There was always a swarm of tourists there, either going to the National Gallery or taking pictures of the beautiful fountains. She herself was very much partial to the street artists who were acting, dancing and or playing music.

There currently was some guy playing a tune she knew all-too-well on the pipes. He was wearing a kilt in the tartan of what she guessed was his own family's colour, since it wasn't one of the 'mainstream' ones you could find everywhere in the UK. She stood facing the guy and smiling up at him, and then started singing the lyrics as he smiled back.

" _Will ye go lassie go? And we'll all go together, to pluck wild mountain thyme, all around the blooming heather, will ye go lassie go?_ "

Soon another voice followed her, then another, and she looked around, noticing a couple standing close. They were tourists, if their backpacks were any indication, and if she had to place a bet, they probably were Irish. The song was an Irish one anyway, but was often sung by Scots. Gaels be Gaels, right?

The song stretched and many people stopped to hear them sing to the haunting music of the pipes, and it was a fine morning indeed, until a rich baritone joined in and Ashara had to freeze. There was only one voice sounding like that, and she daren't look to check if her theory was right.

Finally the player stopped and she clapped and shouted, as did the couple who smiled at her and greeted her in Irish – definitely from Kerry, judging by the accent – before heading off. She was about to turn around herself and head over to Charing Cross Road – for some crowd-seeing – when the voice stopped her.

"I did not expect you to sing so well, Miss Mormont."

She turned around slowly, eyes widening when she effectively saw Beric Dondarrion himself stand not three feet from her, the sun slightly hiding his face from her. She could see he was wearing jeans with a simple white shirt that day, and his jacket was once again draped on his arm.

"I did not expect seeing you here at all, Mister Dondarrion."

He stepped forward and she could see him, see the dark eyepatch and the glinting joke in his eye. Once again he was too close, too familiar, too informal, but right there in the middle of tourists and go-byers, she didn't mind one bit. "I thought I asked you to call me Beric."

"And I thought I told you to call me Ashara," she countered with a smile, before asking "What are you doing here on this fine morning then?"

"I'm heading to the Brotherhood's new head-office as a matter of fact. Your friend Miss Targaryen's most generous offer granted us a whole floor facing one of my favourite places in the capital." She arched a brow to silently ask, and he answered with a cheeky smile, "Oxford Circus."

Ashara chuckled, then frowned. "What are you doing down here if you're heading up there then?"

"Not that I'm allowed to tell you, but I live on the Southbank. Generally I cross the Thames near Embankment, climb up Northumberland Avenue, then up here, Piccadilly, Regent Street, and voilà!" He was smiling too widely, it made her even giddier than the prospect of observing Londoners go by their day. "You?"

"Getting tired of Buckinghamshire, actually. I came here to meddle."

"Ah, I see." He stepped forward again, this time to pass her, and launched her a quizzical look. "Do you want to walk with me, then?"

"Would that be proper, my Lord?" she asked cheekily.

"I don't see your chaperone, my Lady, so I think we'll be safe," he answered before offering her his arm.

The pipe player had been staring at them in awe for the whole exchange, and after a while, started playing again, this time the old _Rose Tattoo_ tune.


	7. Interview

**_Disclaimer:_** ** _I do not own any of Game of Thrones' characters. I only own my OC Ashara Mormont and the plot surrounding her in the modern world._**

* * *

 **7\. Interview**

* * *

Beric noticed Ashara's frown the moment they walked in front of the Burberry shop. He looked at her with a brow raised. "Something wrong?"

She grimaced. "I really hate this part of town. Too many posh shops and people…"

"Yes, I know how you feel. Although there's a nice toy shop too. Ever heard of Hamley's?"

She smiled quizzically. "Don't tell me you're into Lego."

"In fact, I'm into Playmobils, but don't tell anyone."

They both burst into laughter, and Ashara felt more at ease than she ever had with someone she barely knew.

They reached Oxford Circus at a leisure pace – there was a lot of tourists and shoppers impeding their advance after all – and when they finally faced 'the' building, Ash whistled in awe. It was one of those modern ones, with huge windows and lifts visible from the entrance. A sign on the door announced that the siege of the 'Brotherhood without Banners' was on the fifth floor.

"Nice…" she whistled again, craning her head to try and see the floor in question. It wasn't discernible from the others.

"Want to see inside? I know you'd like to." He was smiling too, but the smile had another flavour to it, as if he was cautious. Cautious of what, Ash didn't know, but to hell with it, she had been dreaming of working for that guy for years and wouldn't pass on this occasion.

"I'd _love_ to, you mean!"

Beric didn't relax, but they went inside and into the lift nonetheless. She could feel the tension in the air as they reached fifth floor, and before the doors opened, he turned to her again. "Please forgive my associates' behaviour; they tend to be familiar with everyone."

Ash raised a brow. "So do you, and that doesn't bother me."

Beric smirked then, the glint back in his gaze. "You think me familiar?"

She looked away and pinched her lips. "I didn't say anything."

The Brotherhood had obviously only recently moved in the huge glassed floor. Although they had also visibly chosen to put the accent on their visitors' well-being, as the waiting room was already filled with comfortable armchairs and sofas with loads of cushions, a free snack machine, and a television set on animal documentaries. Those always calmed people down.

There was a front desk behind which sat a young man of about thirty with dark hair and stubble. He was cussing while sorting out some papers, and Ash noticed his computer was switched off – or perhaps not plugged in at all.

"Ah, boss, finally! We got a call earlier on; the BBC wants you for Children in Need this year."

Beric sighed. "They ask each year and each year I accept and they put Jaime Lannister up front as usual. Anyway, Anguy, let me introduce Miss Ashara Mormont."

Ash smiled, remembering something as she shook the other guy's hand. "I think congratulations are in order, if I remember correctly."

"Thank you Miss." He smiled and then his gaze darkened and his rolled his eyes. "There he comes…"

"Beric, I said no booty calls allowed!"

Ashara whirled around, as did her guide, and saw the red-haired man from the charity walk their way, once again clad in burgundy – it seemed red was a favourite of his. If her memory served her right, his name was Thoros.

She gritted her teeth. "Nice seeing you too, Sir."

"I'm no Sir, Missy, but nice try." He looked at his boss – associate? she never understood – and pointed in his face. "You are late."

Beric glanced down at her with a secretive smile. "I got distracted."

"Exactly my point!" Thoros looked at her, and he was severe-looking, so much so he almost reminded her of her late grand-father Jeor. "That's why I said you'd do us no good, going out distracting him like that!" He made a tutting sound and turned back to Beric. "You've got a meeting with our dear benefactor in half-an-hour, should I remind you."

Ashara gasped. "Oh, but then I must leave you to it!"

"You will do no such thing," Beric said calmly, all the while staring at Thoros. "I will go to that meeting, and you will spend time with Anguy over there. I'm sure what he'll tell you about us will interest you. Then, when I'm done, we'll go grab lunch together."

There wasn't the hint of a question in his speech, as if he expected Ashara to do as he said. And, to be honest, she wanted to do all these things.

Thoros threw his hands to the sky and turned around to stroll in-between desks, muttering what sounded like insults.

Beric looked at her again with a small smile. "Sorry about that, he can be really difficult sometimes."

"I don't mind." She did, she did mind, because apparently the only reason she wasn't already working at the Brotherhood was _Thoros_ , and she decided she didn't like the guy at all. "I'll wait for you, then."

He smiled, and she downright melted. _He_ was distracting _her_ , not the other way around! "Good."


	8. Job offer

**_Disclaimer:_** ** _I do not own any of Game of Thrones' characters. I only own my OC Ashara Mormont and the plot surrounding her in the modern world._**

* * *

 **8\. Job offer**

* * *

As soon as Beric and Thoros locked themselves into a meeting room and Ashara was left alone with Anguy, the young guy brought her a chair and gestured to his – unplugged – computer. "Know how to work that thing?"

She chuckled. "I've been abroad for a long time but I think I can help you set it up." She leaned down to find the plug. "Let's start with power."

"Don't let Beric see you with your head under the desk, he'd freak out."

Ash got back up, raising a brow at Anguy's antics. He was smirking and staring pointedly at his monitor, and she realised that, indeed, all of the Brotherhood's members she had met so far had been extremely familiar with her extremely quickly. Not that she minded one single bit.

"Yeah yeah, you're so funny, Mister Married Man. Now if you want that keyboard to work you'd better plug it in your monitor. Just saying."

Anguy groaned and did as he was told.

For the next hour or so, Ashara helped the guy set up his computer and create several accounts on the network: one for each of the allotted 'secretaries', or so he had called himself and two of his colleagues. Apparently, Beric and Thoros had decided that their employees would be either on desk-work duty or on field-duty, as to not bore them to death. Anguy was apparently and visibly waiting for his next assignment impatiently.

"So, we set up the online website, though Robert will still have to polish it later," a pause, "we created the list of our current members and set up the template for new affiliations…"

Ash watched him go through his to-do list with interest. If she was to one day work there, she'd better see what was done and how, and memorise quickly.

The elevator doors opened as they were about to check how to create an accounting document. Both looked up as a small Latina entered, looked around, and hurried their way once she spotted them.

She then proceeded to explain in extremely quick Spanish that she needed financial help for herself and her four children after being kicked out of their social apartment a month prior, after the Prime Minister, Cersei Lannister, had decided to build a shopping centre on the existing building's ashes.

All the while, Anguy was staring at the woman, utterly and completely lost. It became apparent that he could not understand a word she was saying, and when Ashara answered her in a heavily accented but perfect Spanish, the dark-haired guy gaped. As did the dark-blonde one who had exited his office to come and fetch her for that promised lunch.

Ash talked to the woman and promised that the Brotherhood could help her in various ways, that she just needed to go over some forms to be officially noted down as a beneficiary. When Anguy handed her the papers, she even offered to sit down with the woman and help her fill it in, since it was in English.

Anguy stared at his boss, his boss stared at Ashara, who had moved to the visitor's room and was filling the form and talking quietly with the distressed woman. At one point, he turned to the younger man and said "Translate our applicant's forms to the most common languages please. Same items, just different languages." Anguy nodded, and Beric kept on staring at Ashara, mesmerized.

Half an hour and a couple of teary hugs later, the Spanish woman left the building with an official appointment set for the next day, and Ash made her way back to the front desk, not daring to look as smug as she felt for proving her use in front of a potential boss.

And also, potential…something else.

Beric smiled at her, and chuckled. "I was about to bring you to lunch, but I think we need to have a different kind of lunch now. Anguy," he said without looking at his employee, "order the usual. Ashara, follow me please."

He led her through a couple of carpeted corridors and to a medium-sized office with huge windows and a beautiful view over London. Beric sat at his desk while she looked around, and roamed through several drawers before coming back with what suspiciously looked like a contract.

"Ashara?" She turned hearing his deep voice, and he was sitting just behind her, his dazzling blue eye watching her as she stood at the window. "Come and sit please."

She would have rather stayed right there, even gotten closer to his chair, even sat on his lap, really, as forward as it sounded, but she did as she was asked.

This was it.

Finally.


	9. Clauses

**_Disclaimer:_** ** _I do not own any of Game of Thrones' characters. I only own my OC Ashara Mormont and the plot surrounding her in the modern world._**

* * *

 **9\. Clauses**

* * *

Beric soon produced a contract that he placed in front of Ashara, and smiled widely at her. "I was having some doubts before, but now I'm sure. You'd be a terrific addition to the team, Ashara Mormont, and I want you to work with me."

He'd said 'with' and not 'for' and it was enough to make her feel faint. Not only was he offering her to job of her dreams – helping those in need, in her home-country, close to her father – but he also was admittedly showing her, as he had done several times since they had met, what a glorious boss he'd be.

Boss. She'd have to get used to that.

Anguy interrupted her contemplation of the contract a few minutes later to set a few sandwiches and two cups of coffee in front of them, and he left with a smirk on his lips. Outside the door, Ash heard Thoros shout something close to 'I won't stand for it' but she ignored it and him.

Beric let her read in peace, not once trying to pull her attention to him – although it was a few times, especially when she stared at him chewing at his sandwich at the window, his back – and buttocks, alright – on full display.

She had to admit that the whole prospect was just too appealing. Much too appealing. She knew several languages – seven, in fact – knew what people in need…need; knew how to approach those who had a more aggressive way of asking for help. All in all, she was born to be a social worker.

There was just one small problem.

"I can't sign this," she sighed, and Beric whirled around, shock painted all over his face.

"I…I'm sorry?"

Ash stood and smirked, enjoying this for a moment before she ended his torment. "There's this small clause here that I don't agree with." She grabbed the contract and cheekily faked studying it. "Page 11. It says 'No physical relationships will be allowed between employers and employees under threat of termination of contract for both parties involved'. Which means I can't take you to a date. Which I don't agree to. So I can't sign this."

Beric seemed stunned. He stared at her blankly, mouth opening and closing once or twice before he shook out of it and took a tentative step forward. "And what do you propose we do to…find a solution?"

Ash laughed loud and clear, launching the offending contract on the desk. "I'd like to volunteer instead. If you don't pay me to work for you, then there's no issue, is there?"

Another step forward. "You seem to have already thought about it."

"I seem to have completely underestimated your charm, Mister Dondarrion. Is that how you managed to secure five billions from Daenerys? By wooing her?"

He chuckled as he took one of her hands and cradled it to his chest. "Why the hell have we only met now, Ashara? Why couldn't we meet earlier?"

"Because earlier I was an idiot and you were probably still whole, meaning I would have had to compete with more beautiful women than me." Joking about his scars was a bit of a stretch, but honestly, they were way past that.

Beric was about to kiss her when the door opened and Thoros barged in, throwing a fit. "I knew it! I knew she was trouble the moment I saw her at the ball! Out, you, out! You know the rules!" He gestured at Ashara to leave, but she just laughed some more while Beric steered his friend out the room.

"She hasn't signed, you idiot." He closed the door and locked it, and while Ash was still laughing, he walked to her, gently framed her face, and promptly kissed her.

Something should be said about cheesy romance movies in which the protagonists fall stupidly in love after like two hours of knowing each other. In that particular moment, Ashara Mormont felt like the heroin of one of those cheap movies.

For better or for worse, she had fallen head over heels for Beric Dondarrion…and it had taken her one five-minute speech at a charity ball…


End file.
